Flesh of the Gods
by Kaolla-nyrrat
Summary: Nothing to do with The DaVinci Code, just kinda similar. This is the story of Giuseppe, Edward, and Augustine and their adventure of going deep into secrets that had been kept hidden for hundreds of years.
1. Chapter 1

The Flesh of the Gods

I. Words of a Madman

"So, Mr. Bianchi. I understand you're a professor at the Paragon University, correct? Pagan studies, is it?"

I nodded quietly. He consulted some forms upon his bureau and continued.

"You were born Giuseppe Bianchi forty years ago to a single-mother Italian family. You were raised in a very religious setting, Catholic, and you were disciplined sharply in your youth. Yet now you have cast aside your connections with the religion and have retreated into..." He consulted another paper, this one filled with scribbled notes. "'The arcane, studies of magick and ancient history', as you described it to me. At the age of sixteen, you left your mother, denouncing her for her cruelty, and traveled to the United States, where you studied archaeology at Paragon University. At around the same time you severed your relations with your religion, which was not too long ago, and you were observed to have developed a few odd tendencies. Acute paranoia is the main one, although you seem to exhibit minor obsessive-compulsive tendencies, in the words of your former psychiatrist."

I nodded again, taken somewhat aback at this revelation. How dare my old therapist think me a lunatic! I supposed that was why I had come to see this man instead in the most recent days.

He stroked his chin lightly, looking at me thoughtfully through his thin-framed spectacles. Despite a bit of a world-weary look owing to his unshaven face, his sharp eyes and the way he seemed to emanate youth still left a very trustworthy impression upon me.

In addition, his frankness was quite surprising. Perhaps that was why I felt more comfortable speaking with him than with others, psychiatrist or not.

"And what is this 'experience' you have to relate to me? I understand it somewhat explains your sudden shift in countenance?" he asked.

I settled somewhat uneasily in the chair and briefly studied the man before me. Fear invaded my every pore, danced upon my every hair, and coursed through my veins. Nonetheless, I had grown to trust this man, after all.

And so I began my terrible tale...


	2. Chapter 2

II. The Tunnel of Set

There are unseen foes dwelling just beyond our senses, at the turn of every corner and at each step down every road and corridor. Luckily, to prevent us from entering a realm of despair, horror, and insanity, we weave a web of protection, nay, a cocoon of lies around our fragile psyche to prevent us from seeing the truth. But what happens when this cocoon is pierced – when it is left to die, a bleeding and withering half-pupa of ignorance, before it can fully develop and be ready to see all – before we can die peacefully, and safely grasp the nature of this world? Such a soul would be ravaged, broken, a fragile husk indeed. I am one such soul.

Not too long after fleeing to Paragon City in the United States, I met Edward de Moley, a fellow student of archaeology with a flair for Egyptology. He had a firm grasp of the pantheon of Egyptian gods and could already read hieroglyphics fluently, despite being only two years my senior. He filled his library with all manner of texts, but mostly those of a historical or scientific nature. Despite being overpoweringly massive in breadth and stature, and despite his almost seraphic Nordic looks, accented by a prominent chin, I felt a bit of pity for him: he was an atheist, and constantly seemed to be searching, as though life had some higher purpose in mind for him.

Years passed, and we developed a strong friendship. I grew more and more engrossed in ancient Egypt. Within just a few months I was able to recite the history of all the Egyptian gods - Ra, Aton, Osiris, Horus, Anubis, Isis, and so many more - as well as having gained knowledge of the hieroglyphics. Among these years of alliance, we found about a hundred or so interesting artifacts and pieces of information.

To this day I regret ever developing such an interest.

During the course of about 4 months, we found an astonishing piece of slab. This was only thanks to a small project that the University was funding, and Dr. Cornelius, an old friend of mine, decided that I was the man to decipher its strange markings that none at the site could properly read. Augustine took one look at it and gave a start. I shall never forget the look of terror on his face that day. I found it quite strange that a few phrases written in some Babylonian text would make him react so aghast. All I could make out was that there was a gibber of some sort of religious practice, something to do with a creature of foul cahoots, and a sort of detestation for the Egyptians of the time.

I found this inadequate, and gave it to the University for their library. Since that first strange incident, I kept my eye on Edward. Yet he continued to research without complaint or queer behavior. And so, years passed as we continued to find little bits and pieces of information, although hardly any of it useful.

Sadly, Edward became less and less diligent in his studies, and resorted to reading pulp novels, as well as dubious and purportedly ancient tomes of a pseudoscientific nature. It was during this period of eccentric and random research that Philip Augustine, an equally eccentric English noble on a vacation in the States, approached Edward. Augustine gave him a scroll, upon which was inscribed a cryptic message - one which, Edward assured me, he had cross-referenced enough to know that it had some significance:

"_The black earth luxurance is the food of the mind. _

_In the alchemical lab of nature is the true tunnel of Set." _

Edward had wisely reasoned that priests found in the tomb of a pharaoh who dabbled in alchemy, science, or magick might have accounted for the reference to an "alchemical lab". A map accompanied this scroll, and it indicated the possible presence of a tunnel beneath a tomb. With this knowledge compounded we sought the tomb of Nehephthat, an obscure pharaoh who made many medical advances for his time. Philip Augustine had reached a similar conclusion, and the three of us agreed to investigate the possibility of this tunnel beneath the tomb of Nehephthat.

So it was that, in 1990, we ended up in an ancient burial chamber within a pyramid near Giza, just the three of us. I had never met Augustine before, and was surprised to learn that he was wiry, like myself, but also frail and decrepit despite claiming to be merely fifty years of age - just under twice my own), as well as possessing some negative quality I could not quite put my finger on. It was as though he was masking some part of his identity.

I felt some minor amazement upon having entered the pyramid, but the greatest impressions were ones of intrusion and a fear of retribution, having heard of the many horror stories regarding pyramids. Still, the whole of the pyramid, with its labyrinthine corridors and passages, was not something I found entirely unexpected or foreign. There were the traditional hieroglyphics; many simply that of recorded history. Although something didn't quite make sense…these seemed to be before most works in pyramids past found. And yet all our experts told us this was from around the 4th dynasty.

Edward tapped gently on a wall in the burial chamber, which read Tunnel of Set in hieroglyphs. He consulted the map and forfeited a second tap in favor of a strong push, which sent that section of the wall rotating slowly but deliberately. As the three of us stepped through, we were vastly shocked and horrified to find the passageway itself. It was not a small secret passage filled with picturesque caches of treasure: nay, it seemed to be an endless corridor, adorned with limitless and transcendent chains of hieroglyphs and images. Torches lined the walls...

_And the torches burned._

Curious to discover the nature of such torches, that we might take one and bring it back with us to examine it later, we stepped into the tunnel and took in, once and for all, how unendingly massive it was. God! I ought to have turned back then: that a corridor of this nature could possibly exist and yet be hidden, obscured from the prying eyes of mortal mankind seemed to be sheer blasphemy. But I did not, for I could not: the "thud" of stone on stone behind us indicated that the door had closed itself, and no amount of exertion on our part could make it yield. The massive black of stone which had so easily slid open, now had slipped seamlessly back into place.

Edward consulted the map, and Augustine stood alongside him and regarded it in earnest. He stated that repeated observation of the map indicated the presence of a second tunnel in the pyramid: and that, much to his and my dismay, the two tunnels simply looped back around, with one as the other began. It was possible that we might continue down this tunnel and find an exit at the other, but we had no way of being sure: for the moment, we could only journey down the corridor and hope for some unforeseen exit. The air felt heavy, stagnant, with no hint of fresh, circulating air.

I felt a foreboding chill, realizing that we were indeed going to continue down the tunnel. And, reorienting myself, I realized that it was indeed "down": it sloped ever so slightly but gave an overall impression as though we were falling eternally, even though this was not the case.

To alleviate my impatience to exit this wretched tunnel, I resorted to scanning the walls. They spoke of the accomplishments of Nehephthat and that this tunnel had been erected to honor the god... and the next hieroglyph was illegible and incomprehensible, as though it had been scratched out in the middle of writing it. To which god, then, was this tunnel dedicated? Seth? Amon? Ra? Apophis, that infernal dragon who sparred eternally from his watery grave

with the light of the sun?

Looking ahead, I saw that Edward was busily consulting the map. Yet even as he did so, Augustine calmly took the torch from his hand and stood up proudly from his hunched position; then he continued down the tunnel in a proud gait, in stark contrast to his previous limping hobble. Suddenly, he stopped short and shrieked.

The body of an Arab lay before him, and both Edward and I rushed over to investigate. Clearly, the body had been that of an unfortunate graverobber. Yet the robustness of his body indicated that starvation had not taken him; the condition of his eyes declared that thirst was not the culprit; no disease marks stained his body; the color of his face was flawlessly tan, not pale white or purple as one might expect from suffocation. And there were no wounds readily apparent nor blood on his robe; although from the sword in his hand it was evident that he had died fighting something.

But whatever had killed him, it had not done so recently: the sword itself was an antique khopesh, and his attire was far from contemporary. Edward estimated a date of perhaps five hundred AD. Yet there was no stench of death, no sign of scavenging. Even the sword was in pristine condition, as though the air itself was toxic to the agents of decay.

I shuddered again at this realization, and the air seemed to drop immediately about ten degrees in temperature. Glancing to my left, an ominous message seemed to separate from the wall and float in the crystalline air:

"_The gods of the earth of mind from the star. _

_Eat the flesh of gods and become one of them." _

The grammar here was atrocious, as though the writer had stopped adhering to any general laws and had begun writing simply to convey ideas and possibilities. Next to this was written a second passage:

"_There is a secret network below. _

_Here in the tunnels, the flesh of gods grow." _

Below this was drawn some blasphemous picture, clearly not Egyptian in style or origin, of a human body dismembered, with notes and arrows to various parts of it written in a language I could not decipher. As I began to study this with awe and horror, the light grew too dark to observe it. I realized that the torches no longer lined the passage as they had done in the beginning, that they had not done so for quite some time, and that the only source of light was the torch Augustine held. He and Edward had both moved, and in order to keep from being lost in the darkness, I had to follow them. Thus, my bondage to them began - but little did I know that Edward had long ago been bound to Augustine...

How long had we wandered beneath the earth? Hunger and thirst did not particularly seem to strike me, but eventually we succumbed to fatigue. The three of us moved on only a bit further before resting, placing the Arab's corpse beyond our line of sight. I rested my head along the edge of the tunnel.


	3. Chapter 3

III. Enter Dreamtime

As I slept, a vision came to me. A massive, cyclopean room filled my entire field of vision, complete with titan, jagged pillars of stone that stretched endlessly to a bas-relief-adorned ceiling. The walls themselves were decorated with arcane symbols and horrible, heretical images conveying sacrifices, gruesome torment, and a variety of carnal, deviant acts. The base of each wall bore a multitude of doors, perhaps fifty or sixty of them, and each was emblazoned with some deity or another. I recognized the image of Set among these deities.

The focal point of the room was invisible to my eye, but a large congregation of people gathered around it, arranged in a circular shape. There was no rhyme or reason to them; with the presence of an antique hand cannon in the hands of one viewer, though, I gathered that the time was perhaps five hundred years ago. Yet the identities of the onlookers defied all logic!

For it is not logical that, at this point in history, Norsemen should stand alongside Mongols, Australians and Indians, all gathered in the same space and time.

A host of people came forth to the center of the circle. My vision was obscured, but I heard a definite sound of eating, as though the people were consuming some sort of fruit... or meat? I could not discern the nature of their bizarre snack. Yet it was not a minute later until there was a general chorus of jeering, mocking, screaming, laughing, writhing, contorting and splashing...

...Splashing? I awoke to discover the drip of water against my head. As I glanced up, the source became evident: it slipped through cracks in the otherwise flawless stone of the tunnel's ceiling. Yet there was no body of water in the direction we had been heading, since I knew the tunnel's entrance faced north and there had been no changes in direction. What body of water could we have crossed but the Mediterranean Sea? I had no choice but to shake off my fatigue from my too few hours of sleep and continue behind Edward and Augustine. How long had we been walking - and how long had I slept?

My eyes widened with every passing moment, even more so as I passed a drawing of a snake around a tree with the caption:

"Serpent coil, out of earth and offer fruits of knowledge.

Eat it and become like God, and enter the astral skies."

The obvious reference to the Garden of Eden unnerved me to the core of my being. I fumbled for my crucifix in my pocket and held it closely, as though the cold metal would somehow empower me to continue and discover the nature of this accursed place. As it was, I knew not what drove me to keep going and refrain from killing myself, aside from a desire to pursue the light of Augustine's torch. Was it fear or curiosity? I felt as though I had crossed the line between the two, into some anti-logical nonstate of being partially in both but truly in neither.

The three of us found a second body in the tunnel. While Edward and Augustine moved on without pause, I stayed behind to examine it while there was still light from Augustine's torch. It was in the same condition as the Arab; yet the feathered headdress and face quickly clued me in that the body was one of a Native American. I recoiled in horror and shouted ahead for Edward and Augustine to come and observe this. Edward looked back with an expression of frozen, chilling terror that is burned into my eyelids to this day. As he walked, he dropped a scrap of paper; then he continued as though nothing had happened, and I sobbed slightly as I realized that I had just seen the last of my friend's humanity.

I picked up the piece of parchment he had dropped and discovered that it was the supposed "map" Augustine had given him that had brought the three of us here. It did say "Tunnel of Set" in hieroglyphics across the top. But what dominated the paper was no map. It was an enticing and pleasurable runic design that almost willed my eyes to trace it... to unknowingly read and accept the terms of the demonic contract encoded within the rune. I stopped halfway and averted my eyes. This was no map Edward had become interested in. This was a powerful binding rune!

Terror and sorrow wracked my body with sobs, and I collapsed in sheer agony. Yet I still felt the cold steel of the crucifix against my palm, and clasped it between my hands tightly, as though trying to draw strength from the visage of my Lord being tortured and killed. The points of the cross punctured the palm of my hand as I squeezed it ever more tightly. I pleaded with to take me from this place. I stammered that any fate He would give me, be it hell or heaven, would be far greater than an eternity within this endless corridor. I begged him to tell me why, why they had even brought me here when they could very well explore on their own. But a glimpse of light shining against a wall ahead indicated that there was an end to this madness.

I ran toward Edward and Augustine yet again, and to my horror the insanity continued to build to an astonishing crescendo. The walls, ceiling, and floor of the corridor pinched inward as though the laws of the earth gave way to greater laws and the path of light was therefore no longer straight. The hieroglyphs changed from the harmless letter-pictures they were to gruesome scenes of battle, violence, and torture. A stork impaled an owl upon its beak: a man used a sword to sever an ibis at the midsection.

There are no words to describe the bas-relief upon the door in front of which Edward and Augustine stood. The door was enormous, but the image itself can only be summarized in the word "terror"... A moving, living terror trapped forever within the stone of the door.


	4. Chapter 4

IV. Flesh of the Gods

Augustine and Edward threw the door open, and I followed hesitantly. What awaited beyond astounded me and shocked me to the core of my being: for it was a likeness of the room from my dream, but infinitely more nightmarish than any mere dream could convey.

The floor was unremarkable beige stone, and the room itself was circular in design. It was massive – perhaps two hundred meters in diameter – and at each end of the room was set a door like the one through which I had just walked. There were perhaps fifty or sixty such monolithic pieces of architecture such that - God! - it seemed no human could possibly have built them in any way. Looking back, I saw the door swing closed and noted that this side was emblazoned with a bas-relief of Set.

In the background of this bas-relief, the Earth was sheerly dwarfed in size by the gigantic god. In fact, the image of Set himself held the globe of the world impaled on a stake, hovering just inches from his massive, gaping maw, with the dragon Apophis - that loathsome king of evils, that slithery serpent of chaos and destruction - floating alongside him.

A second door I recognized as bearing the image of Surt, that hellish fire-demon of Nordic legend. His upper torso extended from the hells of Muspelheim, and he rent the world asunder with his chaotic blade of blackness. All the doors I could see held similar scenes of destruction, and I theorized that the images of the gods were somehow linked to the cultures from which they came - that, indeed, each door might lead to a different culture's location.

Around the room were evenly spaced five imposing pillars whose form defied all logic and architecture: it was as though they were built merely to demonstrate the capabilities of their constructors. Like lightning bolts they lanced down from the ceiling, and on the near side of the closest pillar I read the caption:

"Revive the old sacrament from days of paganism.

Open the third eye, and enter astral skies."

What language it was written in remains a mystery to me, even today. In fact, I am certain it was no earthly language at all, and that it conveyed its message to me by striking at my heart.

Above me, a bas-relief on the ceiling was divided into four parts. They seemed to be arranged in clockwise order according to chronology. The first image depicted a young and cooling Earth as a ball of flames, with a meteor smashing into it. The second showed Earth swelling to double its size. The third showed a wave of hellish flora spawning from this meteor impact, much as spores flock from a mushroom's head. This seemed to indicate the present time. The last image was one of an earth overgrown with this same impossible plantae, slowly rent to pieces by its piercing thorns and blades. A caption read, in that same hellish and impossible language:

"Falling through stardust into planet pores,

embryo of godhead is in these spores."

Yet I could not help but wonder as to the nature of this plant. Foolishly, I stepped around one of the pillars that obstructed my view of the center of the room.

A sight awaited me that will forever haunt me in death and, I presume, in unnatural unlife. A monstrous and grotesque tree sprung from the floor, its leafless branches swaying in an invisible and nonexistent breeze. It glittered in its blackness, and at the end of each branch was a dark yet shiny fruit that pulsated with unholy life.

Yet this was by no means the worst of it. As Edward and Augustine approached the tree, it erupted with a series of white pustules and red sores. Black branches writhed from an infernally carved trunk, and the "tree" bore the most visceral and repulsive fruit the likes of which the world has never seen. As I focused my gaze further, I discovered that the horrific vegetable was massive and hideous: for its trunk was composed of the faces and bodies of men, its pustules and sores were their gaping eyes and mouths, and its branches were their arms holding arms holding arms holding arms holding arms... on and on, until the end, where the arms beheld fruit that was truly the living hearts of men.

Augustine beckoned Edward, and the speech to follow sticks in my mind to this day. Augustine first spoke in some occultic language, at which the walls rumbled lowly:

"Enter dreamtime, the continuum of space.

The gate of time is what you can reach.

Flesh of the gods will fertilize the mind.

The fruit of God is what you will eat.

"Our god has chosen you, Edward. One strong of mind and body, yet seeking a purpose in life, as though there is some task he must fulfill... Our lord will provide you with this task. All you must do is eat the fruit of the gods... and you will become a god."

Edward obliged, and plucked a fruit from one of the waiting hands of the "tree". It came forth with a sickening slurp and a hideous pulsating. As he bit into it and blood trickled down his chin, the room grew unseasonably cold, and I realized that the curious cold sensation was no effect of the weather: nay, it was the writhing and screaming of tortured souls, begging me for help I could not give them - for release from their unholy tomb.

After but a single bite, Edward began to writhe in agony, and he collapsed in pain. He screamed and punched furiously at the air with his massive hands, as though fending off some invisible foe. Unbeknownst to him, this foe was inside him. Augustine continued: "So it comes to pass, Edward, that you have eaten the fruit of the gods. And you shall become a god indeed... you shall become the flesh and bone body for our god. For let it be known that our god is an awesome god indeed..." and at this, he spat from across the room at the crucifix I clutched within my hands.

"He transcends cultures, transcends time! He transcends Egyptian and Indian, African and European, reptilian and avian, Cambrian and Vendian, Archaean and Hadean! He is the great Evil that has sown his seed upon worlds since untold vigintillions of years ago, when the universe came to be! Though many names for him have been conceived... Set, Surt, Satan, Supay, Songdi... the meaning remains the same. That meaning is power. With his power, his trees shall root themselves within this world, possess it, destroy it, and create even more images of himself, that he might sow his spores upon other planets and repeat the process into eternity.

"My time here is finished soon! But my god's time never ends. I shall go forth and become the roots for another tree, just as you will some day, Edward. And in the mean time, its fruits and body will be composed of the innocents..."

At this, Edward arose, and their two pairs of eyes turned toward me. Knowing full well what they intended to do, I threw open the nearest door, which bore the likeness of some Native American deity, and ran through yet another hellish corridor.


	5. Chapter 5

V. Death of a Madman

Free from my terrible recollection of memories, I blinked and looked anew at the psychiatrist across the desk from me.

"How long I ran, I do not know. I ran on and on, tireless, as if in a dream... I do know that I emerged, finally, in a basement under a lecture hall in Paragon University. I took up a job there, so that I might seal off the passage and guard it, that the agents of this evil might never reach me.

"In addition, I contacted Chris Johnsson, a member of the band Therion. They now play a song that is based on my experience there. It is the only clue one will ever find in this world for the presence of this evil, aside from my personal experience. I know it sounds crazy."

The psychiatrist regarded me thoughtfully. Then I saw a change in his countenance, as though a flash of realization had come to him.

"I believe you," he said.

"You believe me! Great! Then surely you will help me in making my experience public, so that we may warn the earth of its impending and planned doom..."

"No, Giuseppe. You misunderstand me. I believe you... because I was there."

It was as if a shroud had just been lifted from over my eyes. From across the bureau, the face of Edward de Moley, my former colleague, regarded me. How could I have been so blind? I attempted to speak, but was riveted to the spot by whatever Akkadian incantation he had begun... I awaited oblivion. But what came was far worse.

He took my broken body back through the sealed tunnel, breaking through the concrete barrier I had erected beneath the lecture hall as if it was nothing. What happened next I do not remember, not do I care to: for all I know now is my charred skin and burnt flesh, my untouched and raw eyes, my arms grasping my own heart... and the hundreds of others around me, doing just the same, composing a monstrous tree indeed.

I scream.

Release me... Release us all...


End file.
